


I Found You Just In Time.

by trxtr



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: 9-1-1 Lone Star Week 2020, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay, Hate Crimes, Hurt Carlos Reyes, Hurt TK Strand, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Owen Strand is a Good Dad, Physical Abuse, Tarlos Week (9-1-1 Lone Star), soft angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:08:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26787211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trxtr/pseuds/trxtr
Summary: At some point, who you are is always bound to get you in trouble; Tk just learned that the hard way.TW: Hate speech, hate crimes, brief mentions of blood, drugs, rehab, and hospitalsWritten for Tarlos week day 5; "I thought I lost You."
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Owen Strand & TK Strand
Comments: 7
Kudos: 166





	I Found You Just In Time.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dazedastrophile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazedastrophile/gifts), [Bellakitse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellakitse/gifts), [terramous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/terramous/gifts).



> To continue with my tarlos week dedications, today's story goes to daedasterphile, for being one of my favorite writers of lone star. I adore your stories; how they build. It is so clear that you take your time and develop your characters incredibly. 
> 
> I am also gonna tag terramous and bellakitse again, because word on the street is, y'all like angst >:)
> 
> Title from "Not Warriors," by Waterparks

_Breathe, Tk, just fucking breathe, for fuck's sake, breathe._

Strong, angry, meaty hands were stuck against his throat, his body trembling as it shook, and jerked, and tried every possible combination of movements to find precious air, but his labored gasps were few and far between. It was like an enormous balloon was placed over his head, constricting the bottom against his trachea, his face pressed against a strong, sticky cling wrap. Even if he could get away, he didn't know if he had the strength left to yank the suffocating layer off of his face. His skin was perspiring so quickly under the plastic, his lips turning blue. He was fighting so hard. He was trying so, so hard to keep his eyes open. 

He didn't remember much at this point. He had been walking home, the chill of the night growing increasingly heavy. He was stuck in a t-shirt, having left his jacket at Carlos's home. For once in his life, his father had let Tk head home a little earlier from the station, especially after his whole incident, being shot. His stitches were healing, sure, but Tk was still in a considerable amount of pain after a shift or two. 

His incident was broadcasted on state-wide television. He didn't understand why. They wanted to interview him; talk to him, especially after the stunt he pulled with Carlos after the solar storm. Tk had become one of Austin's token celebrity firefighters overnight, and he made sure that his entire house was given just as much credit. His father had saved his life, he had saved Ellen's, Carlos kept everyone at bay... everyone did their part, but just because he had a bullet hole in his chest, Tk was credited with being a hero when no one needed him to be.

It had been weeks of interviews and features on the 126, an engine rising from the ashes of tragedy with their shiny new captain and his overly-eager son. Judd had plenty to say on the matter, and he got to say it. Everyone got to pitch in their part, but Tk apparently made the mistake of letting his sexual orientation slip through the cracks when he told the interviewers how... how happy he was in Austin.

 _"They're all so nice here,"_ he would say, _"It's a place I never thought I would fall in love with, but it's so perfect, I wish we moved to Austin, like, ten years ago.“_

It was perfect for him, no doubt, until the stereotypical, confederate flag waving, Texas _bootlickers,_ as Judd would call them, managed to crawl out from the shadows and the sewers, and find Tk on his night off.

Tk had been joined at the hip with his father, ever since he first discovered the troubling diagnosis that his father was given. Even more so, now, that the boy had taken a bullet on the job, but the same joint energy encompassed he and Carlos, now, too. He didn't know what he thought they were, he only knew what his heart and his head wanted, and those were two vastly different things.

His head was screaming at him, telling him that his father should be his priority, and that he should feel like a terrible person for even considering pursuing a relationship under these circumstances.

His heart, however, needed Carlos more than Tk thought he could need anyone else in the entire world.

Carlos was perfect for him, as much as he hated to admit it. A little taller, a little stronger, someone able to care for and coddle him, but still be able to treat him however he wanted to. Soft eyes; enamoring smile, gentle touch, quiet laugh, cooking skills, he was perfect. 

They had been taking it slow, though, hoping that neither of them would really fight it anymore. Everything came at it's own pace, and everything went a little faster. He couldn't tell who had been falling first, but Tk knew that neither of them would be landing soon.

He wanted, more than anything, the two men he loved most by his side, right now.

His father and Carlos; they had been chatting up a storm when Tk left the bar. His shoulder was acting up, and though both of them had offered him a ride home, Tk had respectfully declined, for they both seemed deep in conversation, and the cool night was nice when he began his couple-mile-walk back to his house.

He didn't even think about the aforementioned partisans, until an all-too-familiar word was shot into his ear, and Tk visibly flinched.

"Hey, _Faggot."_

Just the sound of that word alone was enough to make Tk shiver. Flashbacks of angry high school students and toxic rehab facilities flashed in his mind, and he needed to catch his breath before he could even think to take another step. It winded him; the context of the hate speech, and how oxymoronic it is that someone like him, nothing more than a cigarette bud, was now responsible for saving lives.

_Don't say anything._

"I'm talking to you, hey!" Tk heard. The voice was a little closer, now, so he made the executive decision to walk a little faster. His feet began to stumble forward, hands shaking, breath catching in his throat as the men and women behind him kept shouting, trying to get his attention.

"Please, I don't want any trouble, I just wanna go home."

Tk felt a hand on his wrist, and he yanked it away, stumbling backwards. He had panicked tears in his eyes, already, but he wasn't going to go down without a fight, if that was what it came to. He turned and blinked the tears away to face his attackers, but he couldn't really make out distinguishing features in the butterscotch light of Austin midnight alleyways. "Don't touch me."

A gasp could be heard, and Tk was pretty sure it came from him, but the shocked stature of the front assailant may have proved him wrong.

"If you didn't want any trouble then you never shoulda come here in the first place."

Tk flinched again, and placed his hands up, icy green eyes turning brown in the warm prosthetic light provided by several lampposts. He was trying to get a good look, focusing on all of them so hard, that when he felt the first blow, he was stuck about three seconds behind them. 

He doubled over in pain, his stomach having been practically flattened by an angry fist. He let out a guttural whimper, his knees betraying him after a moment. He fell back against the wall, unsure of how they all were doing this so easily. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but Tk was quick witted, an d was able to pull a couple waistline punches, pushing them off for a few seconds.

"I just wanna go home," he tried to plead, his eyes beginning to water once again. He couldn't betray the pain in the words, for, though he was cleared medically for light duty, he was still in immense pain. "I promise, I'll get out of- _Ah!"_ The scream was loud, and Tk knew it, because the looks in the eyes of the people above him went from a clean, cruel distaste, to a hate fueled anger. 

Tk didn't care about that, though; what he cared about was the handle of a small paring knife, sticking out from his chest. 

He would have loved to stare at them, and yank it out, while looking them dead in the eyes, but this wasn't the movies, and the EMT training in his brain was already screaming at him to just leave it be; save his energy.

So he did, eyes scanning the scene for any sort of escape. He couldn't seem to find a way out, and the punches and kicks he was taking were enough to force his eyes to see stars. He tried to reach for his pocket; his phone, but as soon as one of his hands moved, his arm was yanked back behind him, forcing him onto the ground with a horrifying _pop._ He could feel his heart beat in his ears, and his body was starting to scream at him. He was forgetting how to breathe, how to think, how to exist, and none of his muscles really wanted to work anymore.

Another stabbing pain in his abdomen left him breathless.

And then there were hands on his throat.

_Oh, God, they're going to kill me._

His left arm- the one that wasn't painfully numb at this point- thrashed in desperation, and he could feel the blood rushing to his head, pounding behind his eyes. His fingers curled around the attacker's wrist, the tears falling in a steady flow, now. He was begging; pleading for the pain to be placed at ease. His prayers were answered with shortcomings, though, because all that he got, actually, was a face full of cellophane, and the repeated catch phrase, "Faggot," echoing in his ears.

_Breathe, Tk, just fucking breathe, for fuck's sake, breathe._

__

Carlos was about six diet cokes in when Owen suggested that the two should make like his son, and hit the hay.

He looked down, into the glass, and sighed. He nodded. Technically, he was not off the clock, right now, but he had requested a longer break, on a genuinely slow day, so when the request came back approved, Carlos was hardly surprised. He was exhausted, and Tk had invited him out with his team. It made him feel a little more welcome with the new 126. With Tk and him spending all this time together, they both figured that he should get to know his boyfriend's second family.

_Boyfriend._

He felt every inch of his body seem to transcend at the word. Carlos had dated before, but never really... officially. Most of his relationships were random hook ups, some spilling over into dates and sloppy alcoholic sex. He never really put a label on them, but he and Tk, that was something that he couldn't explain.

It was so rich and real, even if it had started as a hookup. It grew so quickly, and Carlos almost immediately stepped off of the ledge of indifference into the abyss of being head-over-heels.

He was so in love with the boy, that he managed to befriend the older's father. Carlos, in fact, adored Owen, and could genuinely understand Tk's infatuation with his father. Owen was the first real good person that Carlos had met since, well, high school, when Michelle and iris Blake picked him to force into thespians his freshman year.

He nodded towards the older man, cocking his head to the side with a lick of his lips. "Yeah, we should go. You should probably check on him. His ibuprofen must be wearing off."

"You should get back to work, as well, _Officer Reyes._ Owen's tone was playful. Carlos could at least pick up on that, so he rolled his eyes and turned on his heel.

"I'm off the clock, at least for another..." Carlos yanked out his phone, squinting at the bright screen. He soon met Owen's eyes again, though, and laughed, "twelve minutes, _Captain Strand."_

If you had asked Carlos if he ever imagined being buddy buddy with his lover's father, he would have laughed in genuine disbelief, but here he was, standing across the doorway from him, waving goodbye with a stupid goofy smile. "Tell Tk I look forward to seeing him."

"I'm pretty sure he knows."

Carlos rolled his eyes, almost positive that he was correct. He and Tk could barely keep their hands off of each other since the solar flare. It was the night that they first, genuinely, truly met each other. They had made an attempt, after deciding to ditch the hood of Carlos's Camero, to go on a proper date. They got tacos at a twenty-four hour food truck that Carlos frequented, before they fell asleep at Carlos's place, Tk encased within Carlos's muscular arms.

They didn't really want to get up the next morning, so Carlos made the decision to call in, and stay with Tk throughout the rest of the day. It was spent mainly watching television, talking to each other, and actually, for once, opening up. Tk actually let him in, and Carlos had felt so honored; so blessed that the other chose him to spill his heart and soul to.

That was a month ago, though, and though they were taking it slow, Carlos anticipated every waking moment with his new boyfriend. 

He was out the door, waving to Owen by the time he heard it.

There was a scream; a cry that cracked through the air and poked at Carlos's heart, seeming to mock him for even thinking that he could have any sense of normalcy or comfort. He felt his body stiffen, his and Owen's hands dropping in sync. Their comforted, happy gaze was soon interrupted by a fearful, sickening one.

Both of them spoke at once.

"Tk."

Carlos wasn't sure which direction the scream came from, but he would recognize that voice anywhere. It was sweet, and a little raspy, and so _pained._ That voice was so familiar; one that he'd heard only minutes before.

So, he took off in a random direction, his eyes filled with panic. He didn't care about the ten minutes he had left on his extended lunch, he was on guard, now. He needed to find the source of the noise. He didn't care that Owen was running behind him, falling just a little further behind by the time they turned the corner into an alley. There was a crowd of people; four or five, haunched over an unmoving figure on the ground. He felt his breath hitch, catching itself in the front of his mouth. He had to take a step back and gather himself, before stepping forward. "Hey!" He barked, beginning to jog forward and yank them away from whatever figure was on the ground.

His world stopped.

He didn't know how in the span of five months of knowing him, Tk had become such an important staple in Carlos's life, and here he was, laying in an alley, bruises across his neck, eyes half closed, a layer of cellophane pressed tightly onto his pale, frantic features.

Within the two seconds that Carlos allowed himself to panic, the perpetrators managed to scramble to their feet and sprint off. 

He was at a cross roads, now. Kneel next to the man he had fallen so hard for, who was now bleeding out, not breathing, or gun it down the road, following the five people that undoubtedly put him in that position.

But as soon as Owen fell next to his son, panicked, Carlos knew he couldn't just... leave him. His hand flew to his radio, pulling it towards his chin, his eyes glinting in the seam panic that Owen now exhibited. he took a deep breath, and let out a shakier rendition. "Dispatch, this is Officer Reyes, requesting backup at sixth and Congress. 10-31, crime in progress; suspects took off on foot. 10-33; 10-52." He let go of the button, sniffling, and turned back to Owen, who was already frantically checking for his son's pulse. He let his head switch directions, back towards the others, and he watched them round a corner. "Backup is on their way, I-"

"Go get them, Carlos."

That was all Carlos needed to take off down the sidewalk, gaining quick on the corner where he had seen the assailants run. He was crying. He didn't realize he was crying, but he was. This was Tk. This was the boy who trusted him to turn a hook up into something more; the man whose father managed to befriend Carlos within not even three days of their relationship. This was the one he was falling so hard for, and Carlos wasn't ready to hit the ground. Not yet, at least.

"10-80; I am in pursuit. Suspects last seen on fifth and Congress, I-"

Carlos was cut off when he rounded the corner, by one of the people, themselves, holding a pistol, just inches from his head. He stopped dead in his tracks, his arms instinctively flying up. He swallowed.

"Hey, let's take it easy."

He heard the a sickening click. It sent shivers through his entire being, but part of him was just... so incredibly relieved that it was him in this situation, and not Owen. Owen was trained to get other people out of dicey circumstances, but Carlos was much more equipped to handle himself, if he needed to. So, he went through his checklist in his head, making no sudden movements.

He could tell he had them cornered, for the only part of the alley not sealed by a wall or fence was the entrance in which Carlos stood. He could also tell, that based on hand to hand combat alone, Carlos could probably take about two of these guys before he would bare the same fate as Tk. The gun in his holster was just for show, most of the time; a fear tactic. He knew how to use it, but rarely was Carlos one to actually pull it out. This wasn't going to be one of those times. He could tell that.

He'd rather get shot and the suspect be detained than shoot first, ask questions later.

So he stood there, hands up, mindlessly staring down the barrel of a gun for what seemed like an eternity before he could see flashing lights from behind him.

So Carlos ducked, hearing a single shot ring out and ricochet across the wall.

When he looked up, he locked eyes with the officers exiting their cars, and surrounding the suspects. He had a pleading expression. He just wanted to get back to Tk; to hold him in his arms, and cry a little, because he deserved it. He needed to stand, to run, to go find him.

Because he loved him.

And it was so abundantly clear, now, with both of them staring death in the face, that the feeling was mutual.

He didn't remember getting up, or sprinting the one long block back to the corner, or kneeling down next to Tk as Owen worked to keep his son breathing.

All he remembered was that Tk was breathing.

His eyes were hazy; halfway open, lips parted in a fashion that, under any other circumstance, Carlos would have kissed so quickly, and licked at the back of his teeth in the process.

But now, all that it was, was Tk's pale complexion against purple lips, unable to speak, or breathe, or say anything, even though Carlos could tell that he needed to.

Carlos found himself stabilizing Tk's head in his hands, staring down into his lover's eyes with such determination. He leaned down and kissed his forehead. "You're okay," Carlos promised. He didn't want to let go; to give the paramedics room to work, but he was forced to, by Owen, who was already being pulled back as well.

So, Carlos scrambled, trying to keep his hands on his lover's cheeks, and keep telling him that it was okay, because he really, _really,_ needed it to be.

__

The most agonizing pain that Carlos had ever gone through was not what you'd think it was. He'd been clipped by a bullet on many occasions, and broken many bones. He'd been burned and choked and bit and beaten so many times. It came with the job, and his less-than-ideal high school experience. None of that, though...

None of that came close to waiting on what very well could be the love of his life die right in front of him.

It had been sixteen hours since he found Tk, and he was now sitting next to his hospital bed, fingers intertwined in Tk's. He let out a tiny sob; one of the several that he had been trying to hide from the rest of the visitors. It was just him and Owen, though, now. Carlos hadn't made it to the hospital until 6AM, having given a statement, and filling out his paperwork until the end of the shift. He was exhausted, but he needed to be there, and awake when Tk woke up. They had told him that the anesthetic was going to wear off, soon, and Tk would awaken to a world of hurt.

Carlos was going to be there when those pretty green eyes fluttered open.

And there he was.

It started off when Owen first slumped over in his chair, light snores coming from the man. The snores were only blanketed by the gentle, pained whimpers from the boy in the bed.

Carlos squeezed his hand, almost holding his breath as he leaned forward. "Tk?" he breathed. The words were raspy and exhausted, but also so relieved. He could feel fresh tears threatening to drip from his eyelids, but Carlos blinked them away.

"Carlos?"

"Hey there, Cariño." Carlos muttered back, one hand reaching forward to cup his cheek. He knew the other was probably _horrified,_ but Carlos was going to make sure that he felt just a little safer when he opened his eyes.

In that moment, brown met green, and their attraction was like no other.

Carlos couldn't help himself. He dove for Tk's chest, his head managing to wiggle itself into his neck. His nose was placed just above his collarbone, and Carlos felt Tk's gentle giggle that came with the airflow on his neck.

"Ay Dios mío, Tk, **I thought I lost you."**

There was a moment of silence, and Carlos felt Tk's hand wriggle out of his grip, and drape itself around the taller one. Carlos swore he could stay like that forever, crying into his chest, clutching his hospital gown with the other's arm rubbing small, comforting circles on his back.

The moment of silence was broken soon after.

"I love you so much, Carlos Reyes."

Carlos peeled his head from the skin of the other's neck, and let out a choked sob. "I know."


End file.
